the ghost of you lingers
by Beogroaoaaaga
Summary: Au where Brainy never got caught that night in Smurfy Hollow. Now Papa needs some other way to help them get along. (preslash)


He can't remember much of the dream, hazy visions of frosted wings and a frostier laugh from an old beggar with a familiar face. But the part that stands out the most to him is the image of a sympathetic face wreathed in flames, whispering that it knows."

It understands.

He knows there was something important in the dream, something he should remember. But Smurfette's gone down to the lake with Handy to talk to their girlfriend through the ice, and Hefty's up south on some kind of trip with Papa.

So he goes to Grouchy, clutching at the remaining fragments that grow mistier by the minute, and even though he went in the hopes of remembering, he's grateful for the assurance that he just had too much to drink the night before.

_(and he ignores the way grouchy freezes as he describes what he can remember, doesn't notice the strain in his voice or the pause before he tells him he's being ridiculous. because last years dream wasn't real, and the tree never burnt, but he still remembers falling, and running through the woods to friends long gone)_

But the dreams keep happening, again and again, freezing and burning and freezing again with urgent whispers in his ears from voices he should know. He wakes with the sheets tangled around his legs, drenched in sweat and shivering in the cold of winter nights.

It's starting to affect his day to day life, never managing to get back to sleep after those strange, ominous dreams.

Smurfette, sweet, bright Smurfette asks why he doesn't just go talk to Brainy about it, a little sparkle in her eye as she suggests he might at least bore him to sleep, and the unexpected harsh comment makes him bark out a laugh.

It's only one more night before he finally sucks it up and goes over to Brainy's mushroom, tapping his paw in the snow as he waits for the little blond to open the door.

They hadn't spoken since the harvest festival, when he'd followed Brainy in secret and scared him away from the berry patch. He'd accepted his win with only a slight hint of guilt after that, Brainy slinking away from the party after unnoticed.

But now Brainy was staring up at him with a raised eyebrow, candlelight spilling out his front door.

"It's _four am_. What do you want."

There was no sleep softening his voice, and Gutsy squirmed for a moment, momentarily struck shy by that look uncannily close to Papa at his least impressed.

"Needed t'smurf ye about something," Gutsy said, waiting for a sharp response to _smurf off_ and a door slammed in his face.  
>But instead Brainy just gave him an unreadable look for a moment, before sighing and moving back into his mushroom.<p>

"Come in, come in, I'll make some tea…"

By the time there was a mug of something strong and spicy pressed into his hands, ("_There's honey in the kitchen, if you need it_."), his usual bravery had snuck back up on him, bolstered by the surprisingly comfy chair he'd been pushed into and the flickering light.

"I've been having these dreams."

He waited at least until Brainy had sat down, legs folded under him and fluffy dressing gown done up tight. He didn't say anything, just sipped his tea and levelled Gutsy with an expectant glance, the pile of open books covered in parchment on the desk behind him explaining just why he'd been able to answer the door so quickly.

So he told him about the dreams, about the odd sense of dread every time he woke up, an urgent desire to fix _something_ filling him, but nothing being there to fix. He told him about the visions of bugs dying in the winter and fire that didn't burn anything and the face of someone he couldn't fully see wrinkled and angry as they turned away. How no matter what he couldn't escape them, no matter how tired he was, even if it was just a quick nap.

He was expecting some fancy explanation, or to be told yet again it was nothing.

He hadn't expected Brainy to snort into his tea and mumble something about being able to handle it, **Papa**.

It was another ten minutes until he finally managed to pull the truth out of him, the older smurf looking torn between laughing and swearing at something. Gutsy had to swear it wouldn't get out before Brainy would say anything, the sharp look from earlier back as Gutsy crossed his heart.

The night made it easier to be open, however, and finally Brainy admitted it.

A curse of sorts, something surprisingly benign for what Gutsy had thought about the matter. Something to force him into dark dreams last night, hammer some kind of lesson into his head about the way he'd been treating someone. But this Brainy refused to expand on, the flickering light doing little to cover the purple that spread over his cheeks.

"The point is, I can smurf it off you." He said, picking at his nails and deliberately avoiding Gutsy's eyes. "Normally, you'd just have to learn the lesson he wants to get across," A shrug, finally letting his hands drop back into his lap. "But since you don't remember, I suppose we'll have to smurf it this way."

"Which would be…?"

Gutsy leaned forward, setting his drained mug on the ground at his paws.

Brainy gave him a grin as bright as the candles behind him.

"We just have to brew a counter-curse."

The sun had already well started to rise by the time they were finished, a constant stream of instructions coming from the smarter smurf as Gutsy tried to help, but more often than not just got in the way. It wasn't the first night he'd spent stuck in often unfortunately close proximity with Brainy, but it _was_ the first where they managed to talk so lightly with each other.

"First, we need to soak the dried rosemary in moonlight…"

"So, just smurf it outside, lad?"

"Wh- No! No, its a distilled type of potion, look, give it here…"

The snarky comments about his intelligence were to be expected, of course, but something about sleep deprivation and the light of the glowing potion softened them up, letting him see the quiet, fond smiles directed at him he'd usually miss when they were in a bigger group whenever he got something right. And it was nice, in a way, to hear him going on about something he so clearly loved doing.

"Now, you need to crush the smurfwort... Good, now mix half the lavender in-… Alright, _all_ of the lavender, I guess."

Brainy flitted about the little brewing room, face more alive than anysmurf had any right to be at that late (or early, rather) hour, grabbing neatly labelled jars off the shelves and humming softly as he stirred the potion.  
>There was an odd warmth settling into the pit of Gutsys' stomach as Brainy told him to go sit down while the potion finished the last little bit of brewing before they could add the smurf essence. He yawned as he settled back into the armchair, and Brainy's proud smile at the potion softened.<p>

"Try to smurf some sleep." He said, quietly tidying up where they'd been working.  
>"I'll wake you if you start having the dream again."<p>

It was on the sight of that soft little smile, and the first notes of birdsong that Gutsy fell asleep, long and deep, not even stirring when Brainy bottled the potion and sat at his desk to continue his work.

By the time he woke up the sun was just starting to set.  
>Brainy was still at the desk, but he'd since slumped over it, quill still held loosely in his hand as he slept.<br>There was a bottle sitting next to him, glowing faintly in the dusk a swirling purple, and Gutsy tugged one of the many blankets littering the couch (not surprising that Brainy'd have that many, considering how slim he was and how late his winter coat seemed to come in every year).

"Sleep well lad." He whispered, dragging it over Brainy's shoulders and watching as the tiny frown and soft shivering finally vanished before grabbing the little potion bottle and heading out the door.

He was halfway home before he realised he hadn't dreamt at all.

Two forests over, Papa smiled.


End file.
